Mac DeMarco Gets Honest (and Quiet) on “Guitar”
Mac DeMarco’s sixth studio album, Guitar, arrives as his most stripped-down record yet, both in sound and spirit. It was released on August 22, 2025, and recorded entirely in his Los Angeles home studio in two weeks in November 2024, the album feels like an intimate diary set to strings. DeMarco took on almost every role himself- writing, producing, mixing, designing the artwork, and even shooting the videos- proving just how personal this project is. On just under 31 minutes split into 12 tracks, it pulls him back to the core of guitar and voice, a foil to his other works, Five Easy Hot Dogs and One Wayne G. In his own words, it is “as close to a true representation of where I’m at in my life today as I can manage to put to paper,” and that statement shines through every word, note and chord.
The sound of Guitar is unhurried and centered around acoustic with occasional bass, percussion, and faint backing vocals. There are no complicated arrangements or studio magic here, just songs that stay in a cozy but vulnerable atmosphere. Reviewers have described the record as positive, laid-back, and intimate, and that the simplicity gives it a natural warmth. With the glowing reviews there’s also a lingering sense of melancholy in the record, a recognition that even stripped-down songs can hold meaning.
That meaning comes through in the themes and lyrics. Song titles like “Nightmare,” “Terror,” and “Punishment” hint at the darker edges, but even lighter-sounding tracks like “Home” and “Rock and Roll” carry hidden meanings of self-criticism. There’s a continued path of aging, regret, and emotional flow that carries through the whole album, making it feel as much about light as it is about dark. The lead single, “Home,” is an unbended centerpiece, capturing the soft spirit of the album with a focus on memory and loss. In contrast, “Holy” stands out with a deeper vocal register and a twangy guitar that lends it an enticing sound. “Rock and Roll” builds with intensity before unleashing one of the more pausing moments, its solo offering a rare burst of jumbled instrumental solo. And “Rooster,” the reflective closer, leaves listeners on a note of quiet intimacy, almost like a whisper.
Critics have met Guitar with generally favorable reviews, holding admiration and reservation. Outlets such as Exclaim! have praised its late-summer sweetness and maturity, while others like Paste have suggested that the simpler approach doesn’t always play to DeMarco’s strengths. There are stretches where the consistency risks tipping into a certain expectation, but for listeners willing to sit with its energy, the record reveals emotional depths.
Ultimately, Guitar is not a grand statement, and it's not meant to be. Instead, it feels like a human one, an unpolished but honest culmination of solitude, loss, and resilience. It may not satisfy those craving the playful weirdness or rich textures of DeMarco’s earlier work, but in its laid back nature lies a kind the courage to strip everything away and let the songs, and the voice behind them, stand alone. For late nights, quiet mornings, or any moment that feels heavy but not sad, Guitar lingers with that resonance.
